FIC - One Man Guy
title: One Man Guy
pairing Sam/Dean
rating: NC-17
a/n: Uh…porn. Yeah, just porn. And incest. And angst. Maybe a bit of schmoop too. Inspired by the Rufus Wainwright song that I stole the title from. Also, season 6 spoilers and brief mentions of underage sex.
summary: Dean relied only on himself these days. Except for when he wasn’t enough.
The past year or so had been…well, difficult to say the least. After Sam showed back up, Dean had left his new life with Ben and Lisa. There was no way around it, he’d put up token resistance and honestly had feelings of loss when he thought about that year he’d spent pretending to be some regular guy who had barbecues in his backyard with the neighbors and doing yardwork and going to a normal job every day. But he belonged with his brother, even if his brother wasn’t the same as he used to be.
Dean’s way of dealing with his current situation was the only way he knew how.
Sure it’s kinda lonely, yeah it’s sort of sick, being your own one-and-only is a dirty selfish trick
He didn’t rely on Bobby anymore, or Cas, or Sam (NotSam, RoboSam, T1000Sam, whatever). Dean spent as much time as he could completely alone. Anytime he could manage it, he got his own room, ordered takeout, watched whatever he wanted as far as the limited options that were offered on the television in whichever motel he happened to be in at the time. He took solace in himself, and cut himself off from the rest of the world because he didn’t need anyone else.
I’m gonna bathe and shave and dress myself and eat solo every night. Unplug the phone, sleep alone, and stay way out of sight.
Dean couldn’t help feeling this way. It seemed right to him, figuring out that whatever it was that he might need at any given moment was something he could provide for himself. Bobby was still pretty angry about recent events. Cas clearly had his own agenda, though Dean hadn’t quite figured out yet what it was. And Sam…well, Sam wasn’t Sam. There was no one else he could trust, really trust with his emotions. But he still had himself, and he tried to take a measure of solace in that knowledge.
These three cubic feet of blood and bone and meat are all I love and know..
Events progressed rapidly, and Dean could hardly make them all out as he watched everything in fast-forward mode in his brain. Cas was still hiding something, he didn’t know what exactly, but there was this sense about it that made Dean feel terribly ill at ease. Bobby did the best he could, and Sam unwillingly got his soul back, with all the consequences of that staring deep into both of them constantly and a terrifying warning about what could happen as a result of his younger brother’s soul being forced back into him after having been tortured in the Cage for, shit, however long it had been. From his own experience in Hell, he figured Sam had been there a hundred times longer than he had, with no hope of reprieve. It had taken Dean thirty Hell-Years to break, and Sam had been in even a worse place for much longer without breaking.
The thought often of a bygone era where they still had a father, and then all of a sudden they didn’t. The crushing weight of living when Dean knew his father had had traded his soul for the life of his son. Before either of them knew the truth, John had known. There was a good chance his boys would be all right without him, but without each other, there was just no shot at a decent life, no matter what else happened.
As Dean was holding back the weight of the thoughts, the weight of his father’s sacrifice, of what his own sacrifice had done to Sam, of Sam’s sacrifice for him, there was a knock at the door to his room. He took his bowie knife just in case, but he already knew the knock was from Sam.
People depend on family and friends, and other folks to pull them through.
Dean was tired. So fucking tired and he let his brother into the room, knowing what would happen next. Sam grabbed onto the front of Dean’s shirt, pushing him backward and onto the bed in one swift movement. Dean felt himself collapsing under the larger, stronger frame of his little brother, both of their hands grabbing and removing clothing until it was just them, flesh on flesh since it had been that first time when neither of them had been legally old enough to consent.
Their lips crushed together and Dean didn’t even try to fight that familiar feeling of Sam’s mouth on his, their tongues moving against each other, the “this is where I belong” there but unspoken between them.
Sam moved like it hadn’t been years since they’d been together like this, and to him, it didn’t matter that he’d end up with unmistakable bite marks that claimed him. As he moved his body lower, Sam had kissed his chest, sucking a bit at his nipples, before resting just less than an inch above Dean’s cock. It took all he had, but he spared just a moment to ask Sam if he was sure he wanted to do this. The answer he received was Sam’s mouth closing down on his dick, taking him all the way inside, pushing back against a gag reflex that Sam had learned to overcome before his sixteenth birthday.
There was no feeling better than this. Well, ok, maybe there was one. Sam had their little bottle of lube handy as he slicked up his fingers and pressed one, and then two fingers inside of Dean. He couldn’t contain the full-body shudder that rocked through him as he felt himself being worked open by his brother. Before he even realized how open and ready he was, Sam guided his cock against Dean’s entrance and pushed forward. Dean wanted it, and Sam knew it, as he slowly buried his cock into his brother, taking the moans as sounds of pleasure and not so much (but maybe a little) pain.
After a moment, and a quick jerking nod of Dean’s chin, Sam steadied into a brutal pace, leaving them both panting and breathless, unable to distinguish which sounds came from him and which came from his brother. It had been a really long time, and they both knew this would be over much more quickly than either of them wanted. Sam wrapped his hand over Dean’s length, hard as steel and begging for more, before he shifted and changed the angle so he could be sure he nailed Dean’s prostate on at least every other stroke. Sam felt his orgasm building with each thrust, and felt Dean’s getting closer with each stroke.
Within minutes, both of them reached their climax, Dean spilling over Sam’s hand and Sam spilling inside his brother.
Dean decided in that moment that he was, indeed, a one man guy. But much to his surprise, that “one man” wasn’t actually him. That one man was Sam. Always had been, and always would be.
One man guy when the sun goes down, whistlin’ a one man tune
pairing Sam/Dean
rating: NC-17
a/n: Uh…porn. Yeah, just porn. And incest. And angst. Maybe a bit of schmoop too. Inspired by the Rufus Wainwright song that I stole the title from. Also, season 6 spoilers and brief mentions of underage sex.
summary: Dean relied only on himself these days. Except for when he wasn’t enough.
The past year or so had been…well, difficult to say the least. After Sam showed back up, Dean had left his new life with Ben and Lisa. There was no way around it, he’d put up token resistance and honestly had feelings of loss when he thought about that year he’d spent pretending to be some regular guy who had barbecues in his backyard with the neighbors and doing yardwork and going to a normal job every day. But he belonged with his brother, even if his brother wasn’t the same as he used to be.
Dean’s way of dealing with his current situation was the only way he knew how.
Sure it’s kinda lonely, yeah it’s sort of sick, being your own one-and-only is a dirty selfish trick
He didn’t rely on Bobby anymore, or Cas, or Sam (NotSam, RoboSam, T1000Sam, whatever). Dean spent as much time as he could completely alone. Anytime he could manage it, he got his own room, ordered takeout, watched whatever he wanted as far as the limited options that were offered on the television in whichever motel he happened to be in at the time. He took solace in himself, and cut himself off from the rest of the world because he didn’t need anyone else.
I’m gonna bathe and shave and dress myself and eat solo every night. Unplug the phone, sleep alone, and stay way out of sight.
Dean couldn’t help feeling this way. It seemed right to him, figuring out that whatever it was that he might need at any given moment was something he could provide for himself. Bobby was still pretty angry about recent events. Cas clearly had his own agenda, though Dean hadn’t quite figured out yet what it was. And Sam…well, Sam wasn’t Sam. There was no one else he could trust, really trust with his emotions. But he still had himself, and he tried to take a measure of solace in that knowledge.
These three cubic feet of blood and bone and meat are all I love and know..
Events progressed rapidly, and Dean could hardly make them all out as he watched everything in fast-forward mode in his brain. Cas was still hiding something, he didn’t know what exactly, but there was this sense about it that made Dean feel terribly ill at ease. Bobby did the best he could, and Sam unwillingly got his soul back, with all the consequences of that staring deep into both of them constantly and a terrifying warning about what could happen as a result of his younger brother’s soul being forced back into him after having been tortured in the Cage for, shit, however long it had been. From his own experience in Hell, he figured Sam had been there a hundred times longer than he had, with no hope of reprieve. It had taken Dean thirty Hell-Years to break, and Sam had been in even a worse place for much longer without breaking.
The thought often of a bygone era where they still had a father, and then all of a sudden they didn’t. The crushing weight of living when Dean knew his father had had traded his soul for the life of his son. Before either of them knew the truth, John had known. There was a good chance his boys would be all right without him, but without each other, there was just no shot at a decent life, no matter what else happened.
As Dean was holding back the weight of the thoughts, the weight of his father’s sacrifice, of what his own sacrifice had done to Sam, of Sam’s sacrifice for him, there was a knock at the door to his room. He took his bowie knife just in case, but he already knew the knock was from Sam.
People depend on family and friends, and other folks to pull them through.
Dean was tired. So fucking tired and he let his brother into the room, knowing what would happen next. Sam grabbed onto the front of Dean’s shirt, pushing him backward and onto the bed in one swift movement. Dean felt himself collapsing under the larger, stronger frame of his little brother, both of their hands grabbing and removing clothing until it was just them, flesh on flesh since it had been that first time when neither of them had been legally old enough to consent.
Their lips crushed together and Dean didn’t even try to fight that familiar feeling of Sam’s mouth on his, their tongues moving against each other, the “this is where I belong” there but unspoken between them.
Sam moved like it hadn’t been years since they’d been together like this, and to him, it didn’t matter that he’d end up with unmistakable bite marks that claimed him. As he moved his body lower, Sam had kissed his chest, sucking a bit at his nipples, before resting just less than an inch above Dean’s cock. It took all he had, but he spared just a moment to ask Sam if he was sure he wanted to do this. The answer he received was Sam’s mouth closing down on his dick, taking him all the way inside, pushing back against a gag reflex that Sam had learned to overcome before his sixteenth birthday.
There was no feeling better than this. Well, ok, maybe there was one. Sam had their little bottle of lube handy as he slicked up his fingers and pressed one, and then two fingers inside of Dean. He couldn’t contain the full-body shudder that rocked through him as he felt himself being worked open by his brother. Before he even realized how open and ready he was, Sam guided his cock against Dean’s entrance and pushed forward. Dean wanted it, and Sam knew it, as he slowly buried his cock into his brother, taking the moans as sounds of pleasure and not so much (but maybe a little) pain.
After a moment, and a quick jerking nod of Dean’s chin, Sam steadied into a brutal pace, leaving them both panting and breathless, unable to distinguish which sounds came from him and which came from his brother. It had been a really long time, and they both knew this would be over much more quickly than either of them wanted. Sam wrapped his hand over Dean’s length, hard as steel and begging for more, before he shifted and changed the angle so he could be sure he nailed Dean’s prostate on at least every other stroke. Sam felt his orgasm building with each thrust, and felt Dean’s getting closer with each stroke.
Within minutes, both of them reached their climax, Dean spilling over Sam’s hand and Sam spilling inside his brother.
Dean decided in that moment that he was, indeed, a one man guy. But much to his surprise, that “one man” wasn’t actually him. That one man was Sam. Always had been, and always would be.
One man guy when the sun goes down, whistlin’ a one man tune